Column

A few weeks ago, my kids and I were indulging in family time at a mall. As we picked up our plates from the food court, we spotted a small boy, not more than a year-and-a-half old, tottering along as his parents kept a protective watch over him.

We sat down, and in between chomping on crisp dosa and Chinese wings (we are famous for indulging in the oddest combinations), I rewound to the time my elder child, Aakanksha, had stood up for the first time. Her face had gradually surfaced above the small table that had stood in our hall then. Then I thought about the time when my son, Gaurav, climbed up the slide and successfully zipped down with a gleeful yell; the time when each had set off for Bluebell School in their blue and yellow uniforms. As I anxiously waited for them to return from their first day at school, I felt like a mother bird about to let her youngsters fly the nest, into an unknown world.

Today, tall youngsters both, with minds and desires of their own that are unequivocally expressed and heeded, I feel as if I am watching a kaleidoscope of moments - some that I am still an integral part of, others that I am a mere spectator to.

Three years ago, Aakanksha left home to join a law college. When we first dropped her there, all of us returned moist-eyed and felt the emptiness of home eating at us. Luckily, the hustle and bustle of my younger one soon filled the space — though not completely — and time began to pass in a smooth succession of days and events.

Recently, we made the annual pilgrimage to Pune — not so far away physically, but light years away emotionally — to drop her at college. But this year, I am proud to say that I bid her adieu with a smile, wishing her well and am looking forward to seeing her again during her break. I felt one more apron string severed.

My son, who is waiting for college admissions to begin, was free. So when we stopped over at a cousin’s home for lunch, he bonded big time with their children Siddharth and Shardul — the three are almost the same age, and the binding glue apart from the bloodline is, what else, football. In less than half an hour, came the request: “Mom, may I stay back for a day? I’ll come back by bus tomorrow.” Aakanksha and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes. Permission granted, the boys ran out to buy a pair of shoes for Gaurav. As I left for Mumbai, the car felt empty — as did the house when I returned. Home alone, I sighed. So what if it was just for a day? The feeling ran deep even though they had gone off on their own for a holiday to Jodhpur a week earlier (‘sibling bonding, Mom’). But that had been planned and this was unexpected — one more bit of growing up done, one more apron string detached.

The next day, I got a message from my daughter. “Mom, he is on this bus and has left.” I was at work and the next message came a few hours later from my son, “Mom, have reached. Where are the keys?” And when this week we picked up my sister-in-law from the airport, she exclaimed, “How big and mature he has grown in four months!”

He has grown and it is time for me to realise that he — like his sister — is no longer a nestling. Soon, it will be time for him to fly the nest. And then I will be ready to let him go. Or will I? A mom is a mom forever and some things never change!

The writer, executive editor, Verve, is, in her personal space, often driven to distraction by her two growing ‘young adults’, but she loves the madness of it all